


The Best Work of Art

by robocryptid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Image, Fluff and Smut, Genji's Troubled Relationship with his Cyborg Body, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: He had loathed this body before, for the pain it brought him before the nerves finally deadened, for the way it attracted a thousand questions and prying eyes. He had long since come to terms with it, learned to appreciate it for its strengths. But only recently had he discovered further limitations and renewed insecurities, the kind he had hardly predicted when his driving motivations were vengeance and survival. He had learned to accept this body, but he had certainly never learned to like it, and certainly not for more than its usefulness as either tool or vessel.He hadn’t expected someone else to like it either. As with so much of their relationship, Lúcio surprised him there too.





	The Best Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomingcnidarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians/gifts).



> [BloomingCnidarians](https://bloomingcnidarians.tumblr.com) got me into Gencio _and_ draws incredible art for both my favorite pairings. It was only a matter of time before I finally wrote something for some of that art.
> 
> Inspired by this (NSFW) Gencio art of hers captioned ["Ending that 10 year dry spell."](https://cnuttingcnidarians.tumblr.com/post/173748332731/ending-that-10-year-dry-spell)
> 
> Also, this is pretty much just Feelings and Porn and Feelings-Porn.

His body wasn’t built for this, not really. It was designed purely for functionality, a tool for Blackwatch’s violent means and violent ends. Angela’s kindness  _—_ her humanity, her recognition of his _—_ had run interference there, but it could only do so much. He was both pinnacle of medical achievement and testament to its limitations.

He had loathed this body before, for the pain it brought him before most of the nerves finally deadened, for the way it attracted a thousand questions and prying eyes. He had long since come to terms with it, learned to appreciate it for its strengths. But only recently had he discovered further limitations and renewed insecurities, the kind he had hardly predicted when his driving motivations were vengeance and survival. He had learned to accept this body, but he had certainly never learned to _like_ it, and certainly not for more than its usefulness as either tool or vessel.

He hadn’t expected someone else to like it either. As with so much of their relationship, Lúcio surprised him there too.

* * *

It started with the faceplate. That part, at least, was easy enough. He had done it a thousand times now, a hundred with Lúcio, for conversations, for kissing, for sex. 

Lúcio unlatched the armor over his shoulders next, removed it piece by piece from his arms and chest and back. This too was something he had done before, although perhaps fewer times. Lúcio smiled at him and Genji smiled back, cautious in a way that he thought ought to be embarrassing. This was not so different either; it was not as if Lúcio had never patched him up, wasn’t as if Lúcio had never seen him without it in the bedroom either. It was just that he had never removed all of it, all at once, revealed all the pieces that didn’t come off along with the ones that did.

Lúcio’s hands were careful and kind, smoothing fingertips over each expanse of skin — what passed for Genji’s skin — every part of Genji that he exposed. Not for the first time, Genji found himself frozen and uncertain, precisely the kind of man he would have laughed at in his youth, the kind he would have kicked out of bed for being too hesitant, too bland to do anything fun.

It had been his idea; this may have been the worst part of it. Lúcio hadn’t asked, hadn’t pushed, hadn’t insisted on anything more than Genji had been willing to give. He seemed perfectly satisfied with all they _had_ done, hands and mouths and, once, Genji’s fumbling, careful efforts. This wasn’t an obligation, and Genji’d had enough sex in his last life to know it didn’t have to be defined this way.

But he wanted, and some part of him felt this was a test to pass, not for Lúcio or even their relationship, but for his own ends. If he could let Lúcio _see_ , let him inside, if he could enjoy it, then perhaps it was some milestone on his journey to peace with this body. Lúcio, of course, had told him this was perhaps putting too much pressure on himself; he also conceded to the endeavor with a flash of heat in his eyes, and that had seemed like more than enough to steel Genji’s resolve.

The same heat remained now, even as he pulled the last piece of Genji’s outer armor off, revealed all the skin grafts and mechanical parts beneath. Genji held his breath, and Lúcio skimmed gentle hands over his ribs.

“You okay?” he asked, and Genji could only nod, all the air rushing out of him rapidly. For the first time in a long time, the vents brought him shame too.

Whatever was on his face, Lúcio must have seen it. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Genji’s mouth, careful and lingering until Genji turned his head the scant centimeter required to angle their mouths together. He trusted Lúcio. He trusted Lúcio with his life and with more of his heart than he had ever expected. He could trust him here too.

Lúcio kissed him like he was something precious but not at all like he was fragile.

So Genji screwed up his courage and leaned into it, parted his lips and coaxed Lúcio’s tongue in, let the rush in his ears take over for a moment. He pulled Lúcio closer, curling fingers over the sharp line of his jaw and behind his neck to hold him in one place.

Finally, Lúcio pulled back, lips shining, and he smiled. “Guess that’s a yes,” he said, fingertips slipping from Genji's cheek to his throat, and Genji could only nod.

Lúcio looked at him with wide, hungry eyes, took in his face as he always did. But his gaze dropped lower, over Genji's neck and chest, down farther still, and the look never changed, never grew concerned or shut off. Lúcio’s fingers followed the trail of his gaze, sliding over Genji’s shoulders and down his chest. His hands didn’t pause or catch, skimmed smooth over the vents and the pieces of metal that could not be removed the same as they did over his skin.

It didn’t feel like it would have before. He could sense enough to know it, to know that he wasn’t sensitive the way a full person would be. It felt _nice_ , but it didn’t feel the way it might have if his flesh were still entirely human. But Lúcio’s eyes on him did the work that his fingers could not; the press of his mouth against Genji’s body, the knowledge that he _wanted_ to put his mouth on Genji’s body, did the work that deadened nerves could not.

Lúcio pressed a kiss to the inside of his metal wrist, and Genji could barely feel it at all, but he could feel the burn in his eyes and the back of his throat well enough, could feel the way something tightened and fluttered and released in his chest well enough.

He closed his eyes against the sensation. “Be careful,” he told Lúcio. “The blades...”

Lúcio laughed against his fingers. “I know,” he said, and Genji felt his face flush again. Of course Lúcio knew. He had studied the diagrams, to take some of the burden off Angela and Zenyatta, to do it himself because he had decided somehow that Genji was his to care for. “Trust me,” he said, and Genji swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded.

It felt strange to be so passive, to lean back and let Lúcio’s mouth and hands do all the work, but the tightness in his chest and the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes kept him from moving, made him feel as if there was nothing he could do. He was helpless in the face of it. Breathing was a mechanical function, nothing that he had to think to control, and yet it felt impossible to do as Lúcio’s mouth followed the path of his hands down, as unflinching with lips and tongue as he had been with fingers.

Lúcio’s hands pet at his thighs, pushed them gently apart, and Genji finally breathed again, in and out, the rhythm far steadier than he felt. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that the sensation was what it would have been long ago. Lúcio’s lips brushed the inside of one of his thighs, over the grafts and the mesh and the metal, and Genji felt the whole thigh tremble as it might have back when it was skin and bone and muscle.

Then Lúcio’s mouth closed around him, and it was impossible to remain _still_ any longer. Genji clasped a hand into his hair, tried his best to keep his grip careful, the other hand spasming against his shoulder, pulling to draw him in closer. This, at least, was no different, was as sensitive as it had always been, maybe more so. This he could feel, _really_ feel.

Lúcio’s mouth worked as patiently as it had over the rest of his body, the hot, wet clasp of it threatening to break Genji of any self-control he had. He could feel it sparking through him, and his head fell back, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling for a moment. After so little sensation everywhere else, after every strange feeling he had already encountered, it threatened to overwhelm him entirely. He let out a sound like a sob, and Lúcio paused, let him slide free of his mouth. “You good?” Lúcio asked, but the lilt in his voice suggested he already knew the answer.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answered, almost before Lúcio could finish. He forced himself to look back down at him. “Yes, I’m... _very_ good,” he said around a tongue that felt too thick for his mouth.

Lúcio seemed to find it funny, and he held eye contact as he lowered his mouth again, lips working slow and lazy over Genji’s cock. Lúcio pushed one of his thighs up, careful as he did everything else, until Genji obliged him. He felt the insistent press of a wet finger, and this too was no different than it had ever been, save perhaps for the way it made the thing in his chest flutter again, grow light and warm.

It was strange, but at least it was strange in a way he was sure it would have been to any other person who hadn’t felt it in a decade. He relaxed into it by increments, felt the press and stretch of Lúcio’s fingers, the hot blissful slide of Lúcio’s mouth coaxing him along, until it no longer felt strange but good, left him trembling as sensation licked up his spine.

He tried to close his eyes, but it only meant he could feel more, too focused on all his other senses. Watching Lúcio was too much too, and Genji let out a low, tortured sound that made Lúcio’s mouth slip off him with a quiet wet pop. “You good?” he asked again, absolutely teasing this time. Lúcio wasn’t entirely unaffected though; his eyes were heavy-lidded, focusing hard on Genji’s mouth then flicking over the rest of his body, the expression on his face never faltering. It was hard to believe sometimes, when he was at war with his own body, that it could be something worth looking at, worth admiring, worth wanting. He believed Lúcio now.

“Come _here_ ,” he said, embarrassingly close to a whine. He pulled at Lúcio’s shoulder gently, and Lúcio did as he was asked, let himself be dragged up Genji’s body until Genji could kiss him again. It was sloppier now, but no less sweet. Lúcio’s fingers still curled inside him, sent another shiver sparking up his spine, and Genji’s head fell back. Lúcio mouthed at his cheek, his jaw, his neck, held him close with one arm, held him _together_ while his fingers threatened to pull him apart.

It was almost a relief, and in other ways a new sort of torment, when Lúcio’s fingers stopped moving entirely. Genji absolutely whined this time, low in his throat, and Lúcio kissed him there with a laugh. “Ready?” he asked.

“ _Yes_. Stop _asking_ and just—” Genji cut off on a gasp as Lúcio’s fingers curled again, as Lúcio laughed at him again, before he carefully worked them free. His mouth moved away for a moment, forehead on Genji’s shoulder while he, for the first time, fumbled, clumsy with only one hand for the condom.

For a moment, there was only breathing, Lúcio’s quiet, harsh panting and the mechanical wheeze of Genji’s vents. Then there was the pressure, slow, persistent, and Genji stopped breathing altogether. Lúcio was a searing heat inside him, stretching, _splitting_ him wider in a series of smooth, careful thrusts, curling Genji into both arms now. It was uncomfortable and good and, increasingly, infuriating in its slow pace.

Genji wrapped his arms around Lúcio’s back and hooked an ankle behind his thigh, dragged him in and in and in, until their hips were flush and they both had to pause, Lúcio breathing ragged against his mouth. It was easy to close the distance, tip his head forward and push their mouths together again. Lúcio spread fingers into Genji’s hair, scraped nails across his scalp and kissed him, sweet and lazy like they had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t buried inside Genji, connected by the stretch and hot, vivid proof that he desired Genji and his body and _this_.

Even Lúcio’s patience could only last so long though. Eventually his hips seemed to twitch on their own, and at an insistent push from Genji’s heel, Lúcio rolled against him, into him, slow and patient but also wanting. It still threatened to overwhelm Genji, shot sensation up his spine and low in his gut with every easy slide of Lúcio’s hips.

It seemed to last forever, building sweet and steady, Lúcio’s hands in his hair and tracing the lines of his body, winding Genji up in careful, excruciating increments. Lúcio loved his body, wanted him to love it too, and in those minutes Genji _did_ love it. The small part of his brain that wasn’t caught up in the act seized on the thought: there was no term for this except _making love_ , and it flooded him with simultaneous pleasure and embarrassment. It was something else he’d never done before, however many people he’d had in his bed in his ill-spent youth. He felt himself flush, then Lúcio’s lips caught his again, Lúcio’s hand closed around his cock, and any shame about it disappeared and left only the pleasure in its wake, building inexorably, inevitably toward too much.

Lúcio came first, panting into his mouth, the endless roll of his hips finally broken with a shove and a stutter, but his fingers remained sure, pulling and coaxing until Genji finally joined him, shaking with it, fingers digging tight into the muscles of Lúcio’s back.

Lúcio kissed his face, anywhere his mouth could reach, lips parted and a little messy, arms curling tight around Genji again. Even that was almost too much again, too much affection, the sweetness almost cloying, but Genji couldn’t bring himself to let him go. Lúcio liked him, liked all the parts of his body because they were _his_ , and maybe _—_ he had hinted before, something like self-consciousness crossing his typically confident face _—_ maybe he even liked Genji’s body in some other way, for its own sake. Lúcio liked him, and his body, and Genji was not sure of many other things, but he was sure he loved Lúcio, for that and so much else. It wasn’t enough to solve it all, but it was a start. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't check out the art before the fic, you should definitely check it out now! ["Ending that 10 year dry spell."](https://cnuttingcnidarians.tumblr.com/post/173748332731/ending-that-10-year-dry-spell) [NSFW]


End file.
